“Eloise,” she began, “I’m going to tell you something that I don’t want you ever to—”
And then the words dried on her lips. Her tongue seemed to turn to wood. She paled. She froze. Her eyes set on—
O’Hearn was walking into the Attic.
He did not perceive that instant terror of petrification; for it happened he did not even glance in their direction. He walked, self-absorbed apparently, to the other end of the room. But his face—Susannah got it clearly—was stony too. It had the look somehow of a man about to perform a deed repugnant to him.
“What’s the matter, Sue?” Eloise asked in alarm. “You look awfully ill all of a sudden.”
“The fact is,” Susannah answered with instant composure, “I feel a little faint, Eloise. Do you mind if we go now? I really should like to have a little air.”
“Not at all,” Eloise answered. “Any time you say. Come on!”
They made rapidly for the elevator. Susannah did not glance back. But inwardly she thanked her guardian-angel for the fortuitous miracle by which intervening waiters formed a screen. Not until they had walked block after block, turning and twisting at her own suggestion, did Susannah feel safe.
“Oh, what was it you were going to tell me, Susannah,” Eloise interrupted suddenly, “just before we left the Attic?”
“I don’t seem to remember at this moment,” Susannah evaded. “Perhaps it will come to me later.”